Death and Famine on every side
And never a sign of rain,
The bones of those who have starved and died
Unburied upon the plain.
What care have I that the bones bleach white?
To-morrow they may be mine,
But I shall sleep in your arms to-night
And drink your lips like wine!
Cholera, Riot, and Sudden Death,
And the brave red blood set free,
The glazing eye and the failing breath,–
But what are these things to me?
Your breath is quick and your eyes are bright
And your blood is red like wine,
And I shall sleep in your arms to-night
And hold your lips with mine!
I hear the sound of a thousand tears,
Like softly pattering rain,
I see the fever, folly, and fears
Fulfilling man’s tale of pain.
But for the moment your star is bright,
I revel beneath its shine,
For I shall sleep in your arms to-night
And feel your lips on mine!
And you need not deem me over cold,
That I do not stop to think
For all the pleasure this Life may hold
Is on the Precipice brink.
Thought could but lessen my soul’s delight,
And to-day she may not pine.
For I shall lie in your arms to-night
And close your lips with mine!
I trust what sorrow the Fates may send
I may carry quietly through,
And pray for grace when I reach the end,
To die as a man should do.
To-day, at least, must be clear and bright,
Without a sorrowful sign,
Because I sleep in your arms to-night
And feel your lips on mine!
So on I work, in the blazing sun,
To bury what dead we may,
But glad, oh, glad, when the day is done
And the night falls round us grey.
Would those we covered away from sight
Had a rest as sweet as mine!
For I shall sleep in your arms to-night
And drink your lips like wine!
A few random poems:
- XII: Some Verses: Sonnet, To The Authour by William Alexander
- FLORECER by Manolo Arriola
- greek_light.html
- I met a seer by Stephen Crane
- The First Lover
- At The Tomb Of Napoleon
- An Autumn Homily poem – Alfred Austin
- Walls at Drogheda by Tomás Ó Cárthaigh
- The World
- I Make My bed Of Roses by Timothy Thomas Fortune
- To His Honour the Lieutenant-Governor by Phillis Wheatley
- The Coastwise Lights by Rudyard Kipling
- I Will by Vishü Rita Krocha
- Here the Frailest Leaves of Me. by Walt Whitman
- Новелла Матвеева – Двое (Баллада)
External links
Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry by Fledermaus
Talking Writing Monster’s Page –
Batty Writing – the bat’s idle chatter, thoughts, ideas and observations, all original, all fresh
Poems in English
- Before Summer Rain by Rainer Maria Rilke
- Fire’s Reflection by Rainer Maria Rilke
- Black Cat by Rainer Maria Rilke
- Duino Elegies: The First Elegy by Rainer Maria Rilke
- Archaic Torso Of Apollo by Rainer Maria Rilke
- Childhood by Rainer Maria Rilke
- Falling Stars by Rainer Maria Rilke
- Autumn Day by Rainer Maria Rilke
- from The Tenth Elegy by Rainer Maria Rilke
- For Hans Carossa by Rainer Maria Rilke
- Evening Love Song by Rainer Maria Rilke
- Evening by Rainer Maria Rilke
- Death by Rainer Maria Rilke
- Blank Joy by Rainer Maria Rilke
- Along The Sun-Drenched Roadside by Rainer Maria Rilke
- Again And Again, However We Know The Landscape Of Love by Rainer Maria Rilke
- Adam by Rainer Maria Rilke
- A Walk by Rainer Maria Rilke
- “Wonkavite…” by Roald Dahl
- Violet Beauregarde… by Roald Dahl
More external links (open in a new tab):
Doska or the Board – write anything
Search engines:
Yandex – the best search engine for searches in Russian (and the best overall image search engine, in any language, anywhere)
Qwant – the best search engine for searches in French, German as well as Romance and Germanic languages.
Ecosia – a search engine that supposedly… plants trees
Duckduckgo – the real alternative and a search engine that actually works. Without much censorship or partisan politics.
Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.
Parallel Translations of Poetry
The Poetry Repository – an online library of poems, poetry, verse and poetic works

Violet Nicolson ( 1865 – 1904); otherwise known as Adela Florence Nicolson (née Cory), was an English poetess who wrote under the pseudonym of Laurence Hope, however she became known as Violet Nicolson. In the early 1900s, she became a best-selling author. She committed suicide and is buried in Madras, now Chennai, India.